Are You Lonesome Tonight?
by Marmalade Fever
Summary: Hermione doesn't know how to feel when she goes off to University, nor does she know how Draco Malfoy feels when they end up with six classes together, with no Ron in sight. DMHG One-Shot Post DH, EWE


Are You Lonesome Tonight?

By Marmalade Fever

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made.

She was horribly depressed, and she wanted her mummy. That was really all there was to it. Hermione lay in her bed, looking up at the ceiling, one hand lying flat against her forehead, the other leaning up on the headboard, clutching at a small piece of parchment. Outside, people were yelling, laughing, singing drinking songs. It was her first year away at University, and she missed Ron, but what was worse… she nearly _didn't_ miss him at the same time. Ron had not wanted to do any extra schooling. Once they took their make-up NEWTs and he got a few Acceptables, he decided that he was done, once and for all.

So here she was, all alone. She had one roommate. Dreena was a Hawaiian witch with a heavy tan and more than questionable morals. On many an occasion, Dreena had not come back to their room at night. There really wasn't much doubt in Hermione's mind why that might be.

What started out for Hermione as a mere unease about being away from everyone she knew—everyone mostly meaning Ron and Harry—turned into what was now fully-fledged as a complete unease with University life in general. Class was, of course, not the problem. She honestly lived for class. She knew every answer before the Professor had finished with the question.

But Hermione was and forever would be socially awkward. She had a small tendency to intimidate people… okay, a _big_ tendency to intimidate people. She was worst in groups. One on one she could manage to a degree, depending on just whom she was talking to. In groups, however, she tended to make the blundering mistake of being herself. She used big words, a surfeit of them. And her sense of humor, was, well… not really in line with everyone else's.

But the thing about University that really seemed to have Hermione in a tizzy was the fact that the one person that happened to be in all six of her classes also happened to be a former classmate of hers. A former classmate who happened to have miraculously been acquitted for his Death Eater activities. Yes, Draco Malfoy went on to pursue his higher education at the exact same facility she had, with the exact same Major in mind. They were both studying to become Healers; both had Anatomy, Arithmancy, Pharmacology, Lunology, Potions, and Herbology together. In Lunology, they studied the effects of the moon on Werewolf victims. Hermione had taken it entirely as an elective, hoping to learn more about little Teddy's hereditary condition. How was she to guess that Draco Malfoy would wish to learn more about his young cousin, as well?

But most of all she wondered how it could be that out of all the people surrounding her these days, Draco Malfoy would be the one that she found herself most often wishing to converse with.

It hadn't begun this way. At first it had been exactly how anyone would expect. He'd frowned at her, she'd scowled at him, and they had left their first class only find one another at their second class. He'd accused her of scheduling her classes to align with his; she retorted that there was a fat chance that _that_ would ever be true. He'd muttered a derogatory term; she moved over three rows of desks, and all had been well until, later, they puzzled over the fact that they would both be studying anatomy in the same tiny classroom that only held nine students. The following day, they found themselves only two plants away from one another in Greenhouse 7. After a two hour break between classes, they walked into Potions only to become partners for the entire semester due to their Professor's wonderful idea of pairing everyone up alphabetically by middle name. She had certainly never expected his middle name to be John…. And at nine in the evening, they could do nothing more than gape when they sat down at opposite corners of the glass-domed classroom together, ready to spend four hours studying under moonlight.

Hermione had told herself that she wouldn't let him get to her. He was just one person, and most of class was spent listening to lecture. Well, most of some of her classes. There was more than enough time to chat, or insult one another, during Potions, Herbology, and Lunology. And of course, those three classes all had to take place on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Mondays and Wednesdays, thus, became Hermione's peace of mind days. And there were always weekends. She really had to live for those weekends.

Except that weekends made her lonely. Hermione had only made one true friend, and she could hardly count, due to the fact that she was Hermione's Pharmacology professor. Aphra Ambridge was quiet spoken but had a charming disposition and a true love of her subject. She swore more than once that this was not because she had been a student at Uni during the sixties.

Right now it was Saturday night. Hermione had diligently done all of her homework already. She had only gotten four hours of sleep the night before, but she had finished. And now it was eleven at night, and she just plain felt depressed!

And she had a feeling that it had something to do with the fact that Draco Malfoy was not being a jerk to her. Oh, he was unpleasant as could be, but the thing was, the thing that kept niggling and kneading away at her brain was, that he kept sending her all of these… these _looks_. He made faces at her. When he didn't think she was looking, he made faces at her. No, he wasn't sticking his tongue out or wrinkling his nose up in distaste. It was the complete opposite. If Hermione didn't know any better, she'd think he looked wistful!

Wistful, indeed! During Potions, when he was supposedly chopping ingredients and she was stirring, she was would catch his reflection in the broth and it would always be aimed at her, looking, for the lack of a better word, moony-eyed.

At the end of classes, when she would pack up her books and place them just so in her bag, he would linger, almost as though he had a mind to ask her something.

And now… well, and now this. He had sent her an owl. She was almost too apprehensive to even read the note, and for some reason she felt it had more to do with a sense that she would be betraying Ron if she did. She didn't want to think about why that might be.

But she had opened the note, and it hadn't made her feel even slightly better. He'd asked if she might stay after class on Tuesday night to talk to him for a few minutes, in private.

It could have been entirely innocent. Perhaps he merely wished to hex her into oblivion without an audience. But she doubted that his request to talk had anything to do with settling old rivalries. In fact, she was quite sure his intentions were something more along the lines of an armistice, if not something entirely more… friendly.

And Hermione didn't like the fact that she felt just a teensy bit interested in meeting with him. She didn't like the fact that she did not want Ron to ever find out. She didn't like the fact that she wasn't exactly missing Ron so much as wallowing in the guilty pleasure of being depressed, if that even made sense. And she most definitely did not like the fact that she had written a reply, saying that yes, that could possibly be arranged.

Monday, Hermione was resolved not to even look at him, though she desperately wanted to. At the end of individual classes, she almost wondered if he would speak to her, but he didn't.

On Tuesday, during Herbology, she asked him, as casually as possible, to pass her a pair of pruning shears. He handed them to her with the handles facing toward her, rather than the sharp blades. It was most unsettling.

In Potions, he commented that the tint of the skele-gro they were brewing was correct after she'd been the last one to add an ingredient. She had actually blushed.

And finally, Lunology reared its ugly head. Professor Silverman was especially excited because there was a lunar eclipse. For the first two hours, he merely lectured on how lunar eclipses affect the ebb and flo of the werewolf cycle, causing them to act especially mellow during the next full moon because the lack of moonlight hinders their transformation. For the second two hours, they worked on their star charts, and Hermione kept catching Malfoy's eyes directed toward hers in the reflection in the great glass dome ceiling. The classroom had to be kept dark.

The class officially ended at one in the morning, giving them ample time to witness the progression of the moon and stars in the sky. Professor Silverman gave them all his sleepy grin that he always gave them at the end of class. "Be sure to read chapter four in _Lunacular__ Theory_," he told them.

As the rest of the class swung book bags over their shoulders and high-tailed it out the door, Hermione remained sitting, putting her things away slowly and meticulously. Finally, it was just she, Malfoy, and Professor Silverman in the room. "Good-night," he beckoned to them, before leaving as well.

Hermione was usually exhausted by the end of Lunology, but tonight her heart was pounding as if she had just run a marathon or had five shots of espresso. "Well," she said, as Malfoy made no move to stand from his seat on the other side of the room, "we're here."

He looked at her, and it was as if the missing moon had been caught in his face, the way he looked, well, _moony_, not to mention the fact that his pale skin seemed to glow in the darkness. "So we are." He did stand then. The seats in the classroom were arranged in a circle, to better give everyone a view of the night sky. He walked out to the center, where their Professor normally stood to lecture and point out the moon's progression. "Come here."

Hermione wasn't sure why she complied, nor was she sure why her heart actually sped up even more. She stumbled slightly as she squeezed herself through the desks before walking the short distance to him. "You wanted to talk?" she asked, maintaining some measure of coolness in her voice.

"I believe that's what I wrote in that note, yes," he said. He wasn't really looking at her, and it was making her nervous.

"Well, go on," she urged.

"Patience, Granger, patience." He was staring up into the sky, where a sliver of red moon appeared.

She was quiet, waiting for him to say something. She hadn't really thought she would see him much after the final battle. He'd been at the NEWTs make-up exam, and that had been surprising enough.

"On your knees, Mudblood." Her eyes widened, and she had half a mind to kick him except that there was no malice in his voice, and he himself had knelt down.

"Why should I?" she asked. She tried to be snippy about it.

"Because your curiosity will get the best of you if you don't," he said.

She couldn't really argue with that, so she knelt down beside him, and when he sat, she sat. "It's a pretty big universe, isn't it?" he said, still just staring up into the stars.

"I'd call that a bit of an understatement, but yes, yes it is." She was feeling a little calmer now that she was sitting on the floor, despite the company.

"Have you ever stopped to think," he began, "about how the human brain can't really grasp the infinite? Every time I try to think about how the universe just goes on and on forever, I still imagine a wall somewhere, but then I don't know what's beyond the wall."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but no words came to her. He sounded like he was in the middle of a bloody epiphany.

"And all that big space just makes me feel… miniscule. I feel…." He trailed off. It disturbed her that she was actually listening to him talk about his feelings. It was good to know he had any.

"How?" she urged.

"Alone." He hugged his knees to him. "I feel absolutely, bloody alone, Granger!" His voice rose, and for a moment she almost expected him to lash out at her.

"We all feel that way," she mumbled, "from time to time."

"Yeah, well… I think it finally hit me." He looked at her. This time, he didn't look so much wistful as desperate. "You know me," he said. "You know who I am and what I've done. Almost no one else here does."

That was true. There were hardly any Hogwarts alumni going to Gravenstein, probably because they weren't actually in the U.K. here. The school was located on an all-wizarding island in the Atlantic.

He grabbed her wrist, but she didn't tug it away from him. He simply held it. His fingers were cold as they gripped her. "I'm _lonely_, Granger," he whispered, and before she could say or do anything, he was on his feet, back faced to her.

"I…" she began.

"Don't… just don't say anything." He was shivering.

"I'm lonely too," she finished, only just audible.

He laughed, a small, dry laugh. "Miss Weasley, do you?"

"Yes and no," she mumbled. So long as he was baring his soul, she might as well be honest.

He made a quarter turn to face her. "Yes… and no?" He was frowning, but there was something in his eyes, more than just the reflection of the wedge of blood red moon.

"Have you ever just _wanted_ to feel bad?" she asked. "Just wanted to be left alone to wallow in your own self pity? I… I tell myself I'm unhappy because Ron and I are separated and because I'm here with you. But maybe it's all just an excuse." She paused. "It's nice to feel bitter. It makes you feel… important."

The smallest trace of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "That's a load of dragon dung."

"Or maybe it's not." She fidgeted.

Malfoy turned around and sat back down beside her. "You sound like you feel guilty. But what I don't know is, why?"

She looked away from him, but she couldn't quite explain the nervous tingling that ran up and down her arms as he looked at her. "Because I probably shouldn't be looking for comfort in the likes of you."

He let out another small, dry laugh. "Now that's why I love you, Granger. You're so honest."

Hermione's head whipped around, a blush stealing from her cheeks all the way up into her ears. "What?" she squeaked.

He laughed again. "Merlin, don't take everything so seriously, will you?" He paused, looking thoughtful. "But then again…" Hermione froze absolutely as he leaned toward her and carefully placed his hand at the back of her neck. "Maybe you should…" Her eyes squeezed shut as he pressed his lips against hers, and the guilt seemed to gnaw at the back of her brain. It was a very brief brush of lips, and he pulled away, looking at her intently. "We're probably going to be having lots, lots more classes together over the next four to six years. Maybe it would help with the guilt if there was nothing to feel guilty about." Hermione felt her heart drop a millimeter in her chest. He kissed her once and expected her to dismiss it just like that? His voice lowered to a hiss. "So you know what you have to do, don't you? Let Weasley go, Granger. Just let him go."

All thoughts of Ron were forgotten as Draco Malfoy's lips brushed against hers again. They were both so lonesome tonight.

The End

A.N.: This was written for Mistress Malfoy's birthday challenge over at Granger Enchanted.


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